On Behalf of Hope
by b3cks
Summary: Elladan, Elrohir, and a company of Dunedain rangers are embroiled in the battle for Lothlorien. As the Witch King's army advances, courage is tested, debts are repaid, and wounds from the past resurface. Slight crossover with Tolkien's Silmarillion.


AN - This story requires some knowledge of the Silmarillion, especially the tale of Beren and Luthien. Basically, the human Beren and the elf Luthien fell in love. Luthien's father would not allow them to marry unless Beren brought a jewel from the Dark Lord's crown as a dowry. Beren went to the elven king Finrod for assistance. Although he knew it was an impossible task, Finrod agreed to join Beren on his quest. He ended up dying while protecting Beren from a werewolf. The actual story is much better than my summary

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><p>"My lord!" Melannir reined his horse in front of Elladan. "You must come quickly!"<p>

Elladan tensed. He and Elrohir his twin accompanied a group of Dunedain rangers led by Halbarad. They journeyed to fight for their "grubby hopeling" foster brother.

Elladan tried not to think about their quest because it was a hopeless endeavor. The enemy was too strong and their allies were too weak. Although Elladan knew that it was an impossible task, he also knew that he needed to fight, perhaps die, alongside his foster-brother. First, however, they needed to find Aragorn.

"Report," Elladan addressed Melannir, who had been scouting ahead with Elrohir.

"Lord Elrohir found… he…he found a body, my lord." Melannir stuttered.

"Human?" enquired Elladan. He was surprised, however, because the land between the Misty Mountains and Lothlorien was wild and uninhabited.

"No, my lord, elven."

Elladan cued his horse, which instantly cantered down the path Elrohir had taken. Elladan stopped when he saw his brother kneeling on the ground beside Halbarad. Elrohir met his eyes with a cool look. Only Elladan knew it was a façade to cover his hot fury.

Elladan looked at the figure on the ground. Silver hair, green cloth, broken body, covered in dried blood. It was definitely an elf, but the figure lying in a heap on the ground had long since surrendered his _fea_.

Halbarad spoke, "He's been dead for several days. I am certain this was done by orcs."

Elladan quietly knelt to look. "He was from Lothlorien." Elladan pointed to a green leaf-shaped pin at the elf's neck.

Halbarad frowned and spoke the question in Elladan's mind, "What was he doing here?" He might have been a messenger sent to Mirkwood, but if so, he should have traveled north, not west. It was too dangerous to travel anywhere else alone.

"My lords, if there are still orcs near, we must keep moving."

Elladan knew what Halbarad implied. There was no time for a traditional burial; to do so could cost more lives and precious time. Elrohir clenched his jaw, but Elladan laid a calming hand on his twin's shoulder.

The company quickly made a pyre for the elf, and the twins softly sang a hymn. They left within the hour, the pyre crackling behind them.

O O O

_We made it,_ Elladan closed his eyes in relief as he guided his horse around the last corner on the path that would lead them into the Lothlorien. Even though he was used to traveling, he happily anticipated a proper meal, replenished supplies, and a night uninterrupted by the need to keep watch. He also looked forward to seeing his grandparents.

But he did not look forward to the inevitable confrontation. His grandmother, Lady Galadriel, did not approve of her grandsons fighting alongside the Dunedain rangers. Whatever she did not approve of, Lord Celeborn did not approve of either. And when Elladan's grandparents did not approve of his actions, they were not subtle in letting him know.

Elladan remembered when they had discovered that he and Elrohir frequently rode with the rangers. "Did not approve" was an inadequate description of what Galadriel felt. Furious was more accurate. _Don't be foolish Elladan!...You have a duty to your family…You cannot risk your life for mortals!...What can they give you in return?...Don't let your rashness kill you!_

Elladan sighed.

Elrohir turned back toward Halbarad, leader of the Dunedain rangers. "Keep close."

"And lower your weapons," Elladan added. "The marchwardens don't appreciate mortals within their boundaries."

Halbarad frowned, "But…"

"Don't worry. Once they know who we are and why we are here, they will let us pass. The Lord and Lady are quite hospitable, though they try to hide it. Just stay close." Elladan clicked to his horse and led the party forward.

As they entered the forest, Elladan was amused by the rangers' unrestrained expressions of awe. Lorien was a beautiful place, perfectly serene and unchanging. For Elladan it was the only place in Middle Earth where his heart could be peaceful. Peace had eluded Elladan since his mother was captured, wounded, and tortured by orcs. He and his brother had rescued her, but they were not swift enough. She was too broken to stay in Middle Earth. When she sailed across the sea to find healing in Valinor, part of Elladan's heart had sailed with her. Lothlorien had become his sanctuary. He would wander under the mallorn trees, where his mother had grown up, and he felt close to her.

"The wardens should have waylaid us by now." Elrohir's voice broke into Elladan's wistful thoughts. He had not noticed how deep into the forest they had travelled. "Elladan, something is wrong."

The party halted and gazed around in silence. There could see or hear no danger, but Elrohir was right, something was wrong. The Golden Wood was missing the sense of tranquility that it usually exuded. Elladan looked at his brother and saw worry that matched his own. Lothlorien was a haven long before the twins were born. It was unimaginable that something could be wrong in this perfect world. Elladan was anxious to talk to his grandparents and he led the group forward at a quicker pace.

The marchwardens found them soon after.

"Halt!" They heard the voice seconds before an elf dropped in front of them. He wore the subdued green uniform of a marchwarden, but Elladan did not recognize him. He was young; perhaps too young, Elladan thought.

"Who are you, and why have you come?" The warden demanded. Elladan sighed. This marchwarden was more inexperienced than he thought. Not every warden knew Elladan by face, but he and his brother were certainly known by reputation.

"Tiron!" Haldir, an ancient warden appeared—seemingly from nowhere—and addressed his subordinate. "This is Lord Elladan Elrondion and his brother, Lord Elrohir."

The warden's eyes widened, "My lords, I must beg your pardon, I did not know." He grinned and grasped Elladan in an awkward but enthusiastic hug. "We didn't think you would make it in time, but you came. Haldir, we are saved!" He looked toward the men standing behind Elladan and his joy turned to confusion and then panic. "Two dozen men?" he said incredulously. "All Lord Elrond could spare were two dozen humans? They are not even elven warriors! How could he…"

Elladan bristled, but Haldir interrupted, "Tiron! Enough." He too, looked over the company. He looked defeated. "You were not sent as reinforcements, were you?" he asked quietly.

"Reinforcements? No, we came here seeking respite and council from your Lord and Lady," Elladan explained.

"I will take you to the Lord and Lady. I cannot guarantee you respite, for it is difficult to give what one does not posses. My lords, if you are wise you will leave quickly, before you are unable." Haldir turned back to Tiron, "I want you to move north, but before you go, do you have anything to report?"

"We have seen nothing. It's quiet. Do you think they've had enough?" Tiron inquired, although it looked as if he knew the answer.

"No." Haldir was a no-nonsense leader; he would not fib to reassure those under his command.

Before Elladan could ask who "they" were, Haldir had turned and led the party toward _Caras Galadhon_.

O O O

Haldir escorted the party to Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel's flet. He led Elladan and Elrohir inside and announced them. After receiving his grandfather's clasped hand and a kiss on the forehead from his grandmother, Elladan realized how weary his grandparents looked.

"Welcome Elladan and Elrohir. I am grateful you received our message and that you came so swiftly," Celeborn addressed the twins. "Our wardens will be greatly relieved by the presence of your guards. Our lines have been stretched too thin."

Elladan glanced at his brother, who spoke, "Grandfather, we received no message, but I think we found your messenger. He was dead." Celeborn winced. "What has happened?"

Celeborn sighed. "The Witch King. Twice he sent a force from _Dol Goldur_ to defeat us, and twice we repelled his assault. We have lost so many warriors; I do not think we could withstand another attack. I sent a messenger to your father, asking for aid from Rivendell. You must leave quickly. Travel southwest, it will be safest."

Before Elladan could protest, his grandmother spoke up.

"Where are you traveling with these men?" Elladan knew the question was unnecessary. Galadriel was aware of everything that happened within Lothlorien and most things that happened outside the forest.

Elladan did not want to argue with his grandmother, but he had no choice. He reluctantly answered her question. "Elrohir and I are escorting these Dunedain rangers to Rohan to meet Aragorn."

Celeborn rubbed his forehead. This was an old, wearisome argument.

"Escorting? You are going to fight for a lord you are not subject to in a war that is not your business," Galadriel accused her grandsons.

Elladan answered, "Aragorn is our brother. We must help him."

"Aragorn may be a good man but he is a man nonetheless. He does not command your loyalty." Galadriel countered.

"We must give him aid! You yourself have helped Aragorn in the past," Argued Elrohir.

"There is a difference between providing shelter and rashly sacrificing your life for someone," Said Galadriel.

Celeborn put a gentle hand on his wife's arm, but before he could speak, a warden ran up and bowed hurriedly, "My lord! Our scouts…Dol Goldur…they're back!" the warden said, still breathing heavily from his journey from the border.

"Slow down and tell us what has happened," commanded Galadriel. Celeborn summoned Haldir.

The warden doubled over gasping for a few seconds, then he straightened and continued, "The Witch King's army is approaching. It's a greater force than before, thousands of orcs." Celeborn paled. "There's more. The With King himself leads the army, along with his fell comrades."

Haldir swore and Galadriel closed her eyes. Elladan met his brother's determined gaze, and spoke for both of them, "Grandfather…"

Celeborn raised his hand to interrupt, "Do not even ask Elladan. If you leave now you will be safely away by the time _Angmar_ has arrived. I will not permit you to stay."

"Grandfather, you need every warrior you can get!" Elrohir argued.

"I will not permit my grandsons to die! Think of your father!" Celeborn gripped Elrohir's tunic.

"Adar would be here himself if he knew. We are not leaving you!" Elrohir almost shouted.

"Elrohir's right, Grandfather. We are not leaving, and you cannot spare the guards it would take to forcibly escort us out." Elladan said quietly. Celeborn saw the glint in his grandsons' eyes and knew what it meant. He was too wise to believe he could win this argument.

Elladan turned to the rangers standing behind him, forgotten. He walked up to Halbarad, "My friend, I am sorry, but we must part ways here. Find Estel. Tell him…tell him we're sorry to miss his coronation." Elladan turned, but Halbarad grabbed his arm.

"I'm afraid you'll have to tell him yourself." He strode past Elladan and bowed deeply before Galadriel and Celeborn. "My lord, my lady, on behalf of myself and my men, we would stay and fight for you."

Galadriel addressed him, "We are honored by your offer, Halbarad, but I cannot accept it. Your battle is not here and your place is beside your king. We will give you provisions for your journey." She motioned for a handmaiden to prepare provisions for the men.

Halbarad continued, "I beg your pardon, my lady, but we will not leave you to face Dol Goldur alone. Sauron and his thralls are our enemies regardless of where we happen to be. I know we are only twenty men, but we could hold swords before we could walk. We will fight for you." Galadriel looked deeply into his eyes, and he met her gaze.

"Why?" She almost whispered.

"One of our ancestors came to a great elven king during a time of need. The king gave his help willingly, though he knew it would cost him his life. Our people have always revered the elven king, and we would not leave his kin to face their enemies alone. We will stay." Halbarad bowed.

Galadriel remained silent and Celeborn spoke up. "I must confess we will be glad to have you. Haldir, pass out the weapons we have left in the armories."

"And give them to whom, my lord? Handmaidens?"

"Yes, if you must! Take anyone who can fight to the northern border. The _Nazguls'_ victory will cost them dearly."

O O O

Galadriel pondered as she fastened her husband's armor. Celeborn had not fought since the Last Alliance, but he had spent nearly an age as a marchwarden in Doriath and he was a skilled warrior. Galadirel, too, knew warfare. She knew the Nazguls' army was too big for Lothlorien's depleted guard, even with the aid of her grandsons and the Dunedain rangers. Their realm would fall like Doriath, Nargathrond, and Gondolin. If they were truly fortunate, the enemy would not take prisoners.

"We cannot defeat them in a pitched battle," Galadriel said. "There are other ways to fight the Nazgul."

Celeborn whirled to face his wife. "You cannot wield _Nenya_!"

"I have wielded it often before, in defense of Lothlorien." Galadriel said coldly.

"Not against another ring of power. Not ever against nine rings of power!"

"Nenya is far more powerful."

"Which is why you cannot use it," Celeborn sighed. "They will sense it and overpower you together. If Sauron possessed one of the three elven rings, he would control the others. Rivendell would quickly fall." Celeborn looked into his wife's eyes, "You cannot use evil to fight a greater evil."

"You cannot use warriors either."

O O O

"Try to keep still," Elladan ordered Melannir, as the man writhed in pain. He had been wounded just before the Lorien forces retreated further into the woods. They had fought desperately, and had even succeeded in repelling Dol Goldur's initial assault, but they had lost many warriors. Lord Celeborn ordered his guards to fall back and regroup. They positioned themselves into trees on the edge of a meadow, thus giving their archers an advantage.

"Brother!" Elrohir ran up to his twin. "We do not have much time. They are coming." Elladan swore, finished tying Melannir's bandage, and drew his sword.

Halbarad ordered his rangers to gather around. The Dunedain had proven themselves to be formidable warriors. Melannir was the only casualty so far.

Elladan stood beside his brother and clapped his shoulder, needing to physically feel his twin's presence. They had fought many battles, defeated many foes, and escaped unscathed more times than logic would have predicted, but they knew this was the end, their last stand. The enemy was too great, too powerful to be defeated by battle skill, human courage, or elven power. Lothlorien would fall.

Elladan gazed out across the meadow, and saw them. Nine wraiths on horseback, all arrayed in hideous armor, marched at the head of their dreadful army. Their cowled faces mirrored a black void.

The enemy kept advancing, despite the efforts of Lorien's archers. When their arrows were spent, the defenders charged to meet their enemy; there was nothing else to do. Elladan and his brother fought side by side desperately slashing against the never-ending torrent of orcs.

From the corner of his eye, Elladan saw his grandfather run to meet the Witch King. Mithril armor clashed against black steel. Celeborn fought as an elven king from the First Age. He skillfully met his opponent's deadly strokes. But the Witch King drew his strength not from flesh and spirit but from evil and hate. Celeborn could not withstand his unnatural power. The Witch King landed a blow which threw the elf lord down, his sword beyond his reach.

Elladan shouted, but he could not reach his grandfather. The Witch King picked Celeborn up by the neck, choking him.

"Fool," the wraith hissed. "You cannot defeat me. No one can."

The battle ceased, and all eyes were drawn to the gasping elf lord and the Witch King. The Witch King laughed and threw Celeborn to the ground. He threw his head back and screeched. The eight other Nazgul raised their swords and joined. The sound consumed the defenders with terror.

Celeborn writhed on the ground. Through the dreadful screams he saw King Thingol, knife in his back, dead. He saw Doriath destroyed, its citizens massacred by fellow elves. He saw Gil-Galad, consumed by flames, fall at Sauron's feet. He saw his own realm, ancient mallorns defiled by orc blades, the city destroyed by fire, the people enslaved in darkness.

Halbarad dropped his sword to cover his ears, but he could not block out the terrible visions. He saw Arathorn die with an arrow through his eye socket. He saw the Dunedain fleeing into the woods, chased by the armies of Sauron. He saw Aragorn fall in battle, a black flag with a silver tree lay trampled on the ground, the hope of men destroyed.

Elladan clung to his brother. The Nazgul's screeches gave him a terror he had not felt since his mother had been captured. Elladan's mind was thrown back into the orcs' lair and he saw his mother. Blood and dirt matted her silver hair, wounds oozed with poison, and her lovely body was covered with bruises. Then she left, sailed to Valinor, and there was nothing Elladan could do. He had failed her.

Darkness surrounded Elladan's spirit, choking him with evil, horror, and misery. Just as Elladan thought he would drown, a light glided toward the Nazgul. Galadriel walked across the battlefield and she glowed pure and powerful. She engaged her enemy without sword or armor, but with a song.

_[She] sang in a song of staying,  
>Resisting, battling against power,<br>Of secrets kept, strength like a tower,  
>And trust unbroken, freedom, escape;<br>Of changing and shifting shape,  
>Of snares eluded, broken traps,<br>The prison opening, the chain that snaps._

"Do you know this song?" Galadriel addressed the Nazgul. "Sauron murdred the singer, but he could not destroy the song, and you are no better than your master! You shall not take this realm! Now, flee!" Galadriel lifted her arms, her face radiated with a fey aura.

_And all the magic and might [she] brought  
>Of Elvenesse into [her] words.<em>

_The sighting of the Sea beyond,  
>Beyond the western world, on sand,<br>On sand of pearls on Elvenland. _

The Nazgul screeched in fury, but their power was waning. They turned and retreated with their army.

Galadriel collapsed onto the ground.

O O O

When the Nazgul screeched, Celeborn had been certain the battle was lost. Like a coward he had prayed to be taken to Mandos' Halls. That was before he heard the song, and it was like a light piercing through the oppressing darkness. He suddenly felt encouraged and hopeful.

After the music stopped, and the Nazguls' army had fled, Celeborn slowly stood. He rose in time to see Galadriel fall and he made his way to her as quickly as he could on shaky legs.

"Galadriel!" he called to her, but she did not hear him. Celeborn knelt beside his wife. Galadriel shivered on the ground with her arms tightly wrapped around her body. "Are you hurt?" Celeborn leaned down to look into her face. What he saw broke his heart.

"It didn't work," Galadriel whispered.

"What didn't work?"

"The song. It didn't work."

Celeborn frowned a little. "The song worked perfectly; it caused the Nazgul to flee."

"Why?" Galadriel said. "Why did it make the Nazgul cower when it did not make their master flinch?" Galadriel looked up, her eyes glinted. "Why?" she cried. "Why did he die?"

Celeborn looked into his wife's eyes. He had never seen her so wretched and vulnerable. This had nothing to do with Lothlorien, the Nazgul, or the battle they had won. This was about her brother, Finrod. Celeborn wrapped his arms around his wife.

Celeborn was wise. Wise enough to know that many questions were impossible to answer. However, Galadriel's question had an answer; several, in fact, and two of them looked at their grandparents with identical expressions.

"He died so others would live."

O O O

"Elladan, that song," whispered Elrohir.

"Yes," Elladan looked at his grandmother with wonder. They knew the song their grandmother had sung. Their father sang it to them as children. It was from the story of Beren and Luthien, the song King Finrod had wielded against Sauron. Finrod was Galadriel's brother. Elladan's mother said they had been close before he died, but Galadriel never mentioned him

Halbarad and the other Dunedain stood silently, gazing at the elven lady in the middle of the field. They recognized the song also. Their fathers, grandfathers, great-grandfathers, and so-on had faithfully passed down the story of Beren and Luthien; it was, after all, the story of their ancestors.

Galadriel knelt on the ground, shaking. Elladan, worried his grandmother was hurt, moved toward her. He was only halfway across the field when Celeborn reached his wife. Elladan did not want to interrupt, so he waited for his brother to join him.

O O O

Galadriel glared at her husband. She was livid. How dare he justify something so irredeemable!

"How can you say that!" Galadriel wailed, "He did not need to die. Not in the place of a mortal. It was a needless waste. Nothing was gained. Nothing!" She pushed her husband away and stood up. She turned and walked away. As she looked around her, she froze.

The Galadhrim gazed at her with a mix of amazement, fear, and deep respect. The Dunedain had dropped to their knees with their sword tips thrust into the ground. Her grandsons approached and simultaneously knelt in the manner of the Dunedain.

"My Lady," they whispered reverently.

Galadriel paused, her anger growing tentative.

Celeborn came up behind her and gently touched her shoulder.

"Much was gained by your brother's death. He died for them," Celeborn pointed toward the twins. "Finrod died for Elladan and Elrohir and lovely Arwen. He died for our daughter's husband. He died for those Dunedain warriors who refused to leave a battle that was not theirs to fight. Galadriel," Celeborn lifted his wife's chin to look into her eyes. "Beren was not the only one who gained from Finrod's sacrifice. All of us did. Do you think he would have chosen differently?"

Galadriel turned into her husband's shoulder and wept. In that moment she was not a great elven lady, but a sister crying for her beloved brother.

O O O

"We are ready to go when you are, my lord," Halbarad informed Elladan.

"Very well," Elladan prepared to mount his horse, but was interrupted by a husky voice.

"Lord Halbarad."

"My lady?" the gruff ranger politely inclined his head to Galadriel.

"We owe you and your men a debt of gratitude."

Halbarad smiled reflectively. "Although our lives seem more brittle than leaves flaking off trees, and much is forgotten of our lore, some things persist. History becomes legend, but legends are faithfully repeated.

"My lady," said Halbarad, intently meeting Galadriel's eyes, "I recognized the hymn you sang. Actually, I know it by heart. We all do. We have not forgotten the sacrifice King Finrod made on behalf of our ancestors. It was an honor today to fight for his sister."

Galadriel closed her eyes tightly. A tear slid down her cheek. She bowed her head to Halbarad. "_Ná Elbereth veria le, ná elenath dín síla erin rád o chuil lín"__  
><em>

"And you, my Lady," Halbarad respectfully inclined his head, took his leave, and mounted his horse.

Elladan walked over to his grandmother. "I know that you think that Elrohir and I are foolish for joining this quest, but…I hope you will not be angry with us."

Galadriel stroked his cheek. "You are no doubt aware of the reason for my anger over your involvement with the Dunedain."

Elladan nodded. Although she never mentioned it, he knew that her eldest brother's death had broken her heart. She feared her grandsons would find the same fate: cruel death alongside humans.

"All these years, all these ages I could not understand the apparent foolishness that had possessed my brother to die on behalf of a mortal. Now I can see that I was the fool," Galadriel smiled slightly. "These men are honorable."

"Elladan," Galadriel said. "There is no such thing as an impossible task."

"Thank you Grandmother," Elladan said and kissed her cheek. He walked over to his grandfather, who pulled him into a strong hug.

"Be careful child."

"I will."

Elladan observed his brother as he bid their grandparents farewell. They then mounted their horse and rode toward the border.

O O O

The party rode in silence, which gave Elladan time to ponder his grandmother's words. _There is no such thing as an impossible task._ Elladan had believed that defeating Sauron was an impossible task. Perhaps his grandmother was right.

Perhaps there was hope after all.

FINIS

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><p><em>Fea<em>- spirit, soul

_Caras Galadhon -_ capital of Lothlorien

_Dol Goldur-_ located in the south of Mirkwood, it was the base for the Witch King

_Angmar- _The Witch King, leader of the Nazgu_l_

_Nenya - _One of the three elven rings of power

_Ná Elbereth veria le, ná elenath dín síla erin rád o chuil lín - _May Elbereth protect you, may her stars shine on the path of your life.

Reviews are welcome!


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